


Drama, Drama (We Don't Need No)

by infinitelymint



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry studies music, Louis is a dramastudent, M/M, bit of pining, larry stylinson - Freeform, more like, only not really, self indulgent theatre references, that's a bit problematic, two people who don't know each other to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitelymint/pseuds/infinitelymint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a bit of a thing for Louis, the whole ‘wanting what you can’t have’, that is. So when the easily most attractive guy he has ever seen moves into the apartment across from the one he shares with his best friend Zayn, Louis is not exactly surprised that he turns out to be a music student. Such a shame, really.</p><p>Or the Uni!AU in which Louis studies drama and Harry studies music, and stupid, old-as-fuck rivalry means that Louis can't have him. Good thing Harry couldn't care less about old rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drama, Drama (We Don't Need No)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nenali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenali/gifts).



> Hiiiiiiiii babes.  
> So, this is for Nenali - I'm sorry if this seems rushed, but I only got this prompt the other day, stepping in as a pinch hitter, and I probably overestimated the amount of time I would actually have to write before New Years hit. Whoops. I hope you like it none the less.  
> Also, since I had so little time to write this, it hasn't been betaed. Any mistakes are mine, and I'm sorry for them.  
> Oh, and this whole music-drama-rivalry-thing is loosely based on my own uni, so there is some truth to the madness ;-)  
> Love xxxx

****

It’s a bit of a thing for Louis, the whole ‘wanting what you can’t have’, that is. So when the easily most attractive guy he has ever seen moves into the apartment across from the one he shares with his best friend Zayn, Louis is not exactly surprised that he turns out to be a music student. Such a shame, really.

See, the thing is, that fact makes them pretty much sworn enemies from the get go. That is just the way it is, the way it has been for thousands of years (Louis might be exaggerating a bit – it’s been known to happen – but it has been a proper long time, all right?). It’s pretty simple really: Louis is majoring in drama, and therefore it is a prerequisite for him to loathe all music students on principle. It’s a matter of pride, actually. The music department and drama department have been rivals for almost as long as both departments have been a part of the university, which means, you know, a really long time. Yes.

You have to study either drama or music to understand, Louis has learned the hard way. When he’d tried to whine to Zayn, about how much it sucked that the fit guy who’d just moved in across them had apparently been analysing Mozart all day, Zayn had only shrugged at Louis, and asked why he didn’t just go ask him out, if he thought he was so fit. Jesus.

Zayn is an art major.

Yeah.

(Well, technically an art and English major, but, well, details schmetails. Louis has never been one for reading the fine print.)

Anyway, the point is that Zayn is an art major. Uh- _huh_. Which means that he is one of those paint-brushing, weed-smoking, eye-smouldering, mysterious-and-dangerous-looking-yet-softer-than-a-new-born-puppy-on-the-inside people, who thinks everybody should love everybody, peace and love, tie die t-shirts and whatnot. No, Louis is not stereotyping at all, _nope_ , no way.

It’s just that, well, all those music students are such a bunch of snobs. They all have this idea that they know what good music is, and, well, if you have the audacity to listen to ‘Genie in a Bottle’, then you’re a bit of a lost cause. And Louis has a healthy appreciation for all things Christina Aguilera, okay? That’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Also, don’t even get them started on drama. From Louis’ limited experience dealing with them, he’s found that they’re quite a bunch of pretentious twats, when the conversation is stirred to Louis’ major. Seems that they think the ‘music’ in ‘musical’ enables them some sort of expert knowledge concerning Louis’ field of education (the fact that drama is so much more than musicals hasn’t seemed to cross their minds). Wankers. (In all fairness Louis has only ever really talked at length with one music student – a guy doing his masters when Louis was on his first semester and, Jesus... It was enough to settle Louis’ opinion on music students once and for all. Bloody Nick Grimshaw.)

Anyway, Louis has yet to even talk to the new guy, and, to be honest, that’s probably for the best. Louis should focus on his studies anyhow, not pine after forbidden fruit, so to speak. He is certainly not prepared to owe beer to all his classmates for hooking up with a music student. Nope. Curly is hot, sure, but Louis’ wallet is also empty, and sadly that would have to take precedence. Also, pride, right.  It’s just such a shame that he looks like a cross between a Greek god and a fucking puppy. Shit. It’s been months, okay? Louis cannot be judge on anything going through his mind.

But, alas, the conclusion is no hot neighbour for Louis. Instead he is spending his Friday evening with “History of the Theatre” by Oscar _fucking_ Brockett. Quite frankly Louis would like to seek Brockett out to give him a little piece of Louis’ mind, because, right, theatre history is already plenty boring without his stupid book. When Louis has graduated, he will write his own, and it will be funny and amusing and educational, and no student will ever have to suffer like him again. Yes.

His future plans of rewriting their course books (so, so not happening), are sadly not relevant though, when he has to attempt to wrap his mind around the conventions used in Neoclassicistic Theatre, and compare it with the conventions used in Elizabethan Theatre (so far Louis hasn’t managed to get much farther than to discuss the three units, and, well, while fascinating, it’s probably not going to cut it in the test Louis is quite sure is waiting for him, when he shows up for class on Monday. Joy.).

So, Friday evening is going to be in the company of Brockett, Molière and Shakespeare. Oh, and the cup noodles Louis knows is the only thing edible they have in their entire flat. Neither Zayn nor Louis is particularly good at grocery shopping… or cooking for that matter.

It’s shaping up to be quite the night, truly. Louis is trying not to focus too much on all the things he could be doing, like getting pissed at the party Zayn is going to, or bumming around on the couch watching E!. Really, though, you’d be hard pressed to find something Louis would like to do less than study at the current moment.

So, when the doorbell rings, Louis is almost delirious with happiness over an actual excuse to ditch the paragraph he’d been reading about the structure of the stage during Shakespeare’s time. Making his way to the door quickly, he barely has time to wonder who might be on the other side, before for flinging the door open.

Instantly he regrets his decision to answer the door wearing trackers with grease stains from the pizza he and Zayn had had for dinner yesterday, and a too large jumper that surely made him look even smaller than he already is compared to the giant who is standing in front of him. Fan _bloody_ tastic.

Curly, who is on the other side of the door, was apparently about to knock when Louis opened the it, resulting in Curly trusting his fist into thin air.

“Oops,” the overly large man-child grins, dimples shoving. Shit, Louis does not find him cute, he does absolutely _not._

A moment passes before Louis can manage to gather himself enough to reply. “Hi,” he gets out eventually. Silence roars between them for a few moments more, Curly continuing to grin manically at Louis, until Louis prompts him, “Anything I can help you with?”

“Uum,” Curly says, and the sticks out his hand. “I’m Harry, my mate Niall and I just moved in across from you. Uh, he’s the blond Irish guy; think you’ve met him already?”

Louis nodded, cocking an eyebrow. He had indeed met Curly – no, _Harry’s_ – roommate earlier in the week, the loud Irishman seeming like a laugh. “Louis.” Louis says, shaking Harry’s hand quickly, as it seemed like the thing to do.

“Lovely to meet you, Louis,” Harry smiles, seeming content to just stand errand-less in Louis’ doorway.

“Well…” Louis prompts, letting the word hand in the air between them.

Harry visibly falters, Louis’ less than inviting demeanour apparently not being what he’d hoped for. “Umm,” he says awkwardly, his grin gone from his face, and damn if Louis doesn’t want to put it back there. “I just, uh, well… Do you have any eggs I could borrow?” The question is rushed out, making Louis think that is probably not why he actually came over.

“Afraid not. All I’ve got is cup noodles, to be honest.” Louis replies truthfully, taking a step away from the door and preparing to shut it.

“Oh,” Harry says, a tentative smile making its way onto his face. “Um, well, I’m cooking, so if you want some actual food, you’re free to join…”

Louis hesitates a moment, because, fuck, _yes_ , actual food, fit boy and a goodbye to Brockett – sounds perfect – except, well: “You do know I’m a drama student, right?”

Harry frowns, looking at Louis with the cutest confused face Louis has ever seen, and Louis just really wants to get him naked, to be honest. “Oh, well...” Harry says, a hand going up to run through his curls. “I, um, I didn’t actually think they were being serious about that whole music-drama-rivalry-thing…” He trails off, looking down at Louis ( _down_ , shit, because Harry is also freakishly tall, and could probably pin Louis against the wall easily and – no, _NO_ , Louis is not going to think about it!)

“Oh, they were.” He assures Harry instead. “It’s a conflict that goes back all the way to the musical fiasco of 1859 or something; it’s certainly not easily forgotten.” He says it with an air of practiced importance, like the drama student that he is.

“No?” Harry questions, the corners of his mouth slowly turning upwards, though he fights it in what Louis can see is an attempt to look serious. Christ, Harry is a horrible actor; there goes Louis’ plan of luring him into the drama program and making him fair game. Damn.

“Definitely not,” Louis answers, allowing himself a little smirk, as he rests his weight against the doorframe. “Why do you think we only stage plays nowadays? No musical has been performed here for more than a hundred and fifty years, and that’s thanks to you music people.” He pokes his finger into Harry’s chest in a way of emphasizing his statement.

Harry merely cocks his eyebrow and _giggles_. Fucking giggles, bloody hell, Louis is so done. “Us music people?” Harry asks, unconsciously running his hand over the spot on his chest where Louis’ finger just was. His fingers – lord have mercy – Louis must have done something terrible in a past life, to have karma this shitty.

Louis nods in affirmation. “Hmm,” He hums. “I’ve got you all figured out. One and the same every single one of you: thinks you know all about what good music is, and what bad music is, and-“

“But isn’t that subjective?” Harry interrupts, cute frown edged into his features once again. “Like, what I might think is good music, others might think is bad. In the end isn’t it just music? Good, bad, indifferent - that’s up to the individual.”

Louis smiles, small and genuine, because trust Harry – the fucking fittest boy Louis had laid eyes on probably ever – to be the kindest music student too. Fuck fate, she clearly has it out for Louis. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Louis says. “But I have yet to meet a music student who didn’t try to lecture me on my love for Spice Girls.”

“What?” Harry says, seeming genuinely affronted by this. “Spice Girls are epic! They literally made music history.”

Louis hummed in agreement. “Are you sure you’re actually a music student, Curly?”

“I don’t know, Lou,” Harry grins, seeming pleased that they’ve moved to nicknames. Louis keeps it to himself that Harry was Curly before he was ever Harry. “Would you go on a date with me if I wasn’t?”

Forward much, huh? Okay, then.

Remaining purposely aloof, Louis raises an eyebrow. “That’s neither here nor there, is it though? Unless you plan to change majors? You might be fucking fit, but I can’t afford to buy beer to the whole drama department.”

Harry looks confused again, and, fuck, Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone be so confused so much in one conversation. He’s also never found being confused to be so attractive. Hmm. “What’s beer got to do with anything?” Harry questions.

“Please, Harold,” Louis scoffs. “Do you really think I’d give a flying fuck about some old ass rivalry, when someone as fit as you comes along, if it wasn’t because there would be consequences for me? I’m all about pride really, but I haven’t gotten laid in months, so some things take precedence. But there is a rule which says that if you frolick around with a music student, you owe beer to the rest of the apartment.”

“Frolick?” Harry questions, his grin wide and dimples deep.

“Shut up.” Louis says, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. And, just, what?! Louis doesn’t get embarrassed, so what the hell? “It was made a long time ago. Frolick was a perfectly acceptable word in the middle of the 19th century.”

“Well,” Harry says, still smiling wide, and, shit, dimples as deep as the ocean – can Louis volunteer to lick chocolate sauce out of them, or something? He’s so there for that. So very, very there. “What you’re saying is that if I wasn’t a music student, you’d like to go out with me? Because we don’t really know each other at, like, at all actually, but I’d really like to. Really, really like to. And you’re fucking beautiful, so I definitely volunteer to help you break that dry spell too. How anyone as fit as you could ever even have a dry spell is beyond me.” He is the slowest speaker Louis has ever encountered, voice deep, words taking fucking forever to leave his mouth, but fuck if it doesn’t just make him so much more attractive. Louis is not going to wonder why that it, he’d given up on his brain concerning Harry long ago. Harry takes a step closer to Louis, so close that their bodies are only a few centimetres from touching.

“But you _are_ a music student.” Louis reminds him, his arms now resting on Harry’s toned chest, and, well, what the hell? How did that happen? Louis is so fucked.

“Well,” Harry says, his hand coming to rest against Louis’ neck. “Nobody but us would have to know, would they? At least not in the beginning. And, well, if this goes where I hope it will go, I’ll split the beer with you when we get to it.” He puts his gigantic hand against Louis’ cheek, running his thumb gently over the skin under Louis’ eye. Leaning in, Louis’ eyes flutter closed on their own accord, seconds before he feels Harry’s lips on his. _Fuck_.

Harry’s lips are soft and full, the direct opposite of Louis’ thin ones, and they slot together like they were made to fit. Louis wouldn’t be able to pull away even if he wanted to. _Jesus_.

Harry pulls back slightly, their lips still just grazing each other. He rests his forehead against Louis, and shit, fuck, bloody hell – Louis has never felt like this after only a kiss. There wasn’t even any tongue involved, holy shit. What even is Harry?

When Harry speaks again, Louis feels the movement of Harry’s lips on his own. “I think we could be something great, Lou”.

And, yeah, Louis would have to agree. Instead of using his words, he pushes his lips against Harry’s once again. And then again. And again.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your thoughts and I will love you forever, honest!  
> Happy New Year!  
> Oh, and come talk to me on [Tumblr!](http://infinitelymint.tumblr.com)  
> xxxx


End file.
